


curvature

by honeyflow



Series: Kinktober 2019 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Altissia, Disaster bi confused by lingerie, Emotional Sex, F/M, Flustered Prompto, Hot dudes in lingerie, Kinda sorta femdom, Kinktober 2019, Other, Peacetime AU, Prompto wears a corset, corset kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-12-01 22:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20912261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyflow/pseuds/honeyflow
Summary: “You’ve got a dangerous little waist, you know that, Prom?”





	curvature

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Kinktober Day 3! I had a lot of fun with this one; Prompto's really fun to embarrass. 
> 
> Today's prompt: Corset

There’d been gossip in Altissia, excited utterings among the ladyfolk of Lunafreya’s being on display somewhere in town. Curiosity (and Noctis) guided you to the shops, and soon you were facing Luna’s dress in the flesh, yards of ornately-arranged silk curved and folded into that beautiful ball gown shape that had the group spellbound.

You, on the other hand, had your eyes trained on the bodice, transfixed by the neckline’s bold asymmetry and striking construction of the sleeves. Your mind immediately went to less than pure places, conjuring images of a certain sharpshooter donning ribbons and lace on that pretty figure of his.

You were silent amidst the boys’ chatter, inwardly indulging your fantasy until you felt eyes on you; you must have been making some sort of face.

Prompto, sweet thing, was the first to check on you, gently bumping your shoulder with his. “Somethin’ on your mind? Looking a little spaced out, there.”

You shook your head, eyes still fixed on Luna’s gown. The craftsmanship was truly marvellous.

“S’all good. Just thinking you'd look really nice in something that fitted." You finally take your eyes off the dress, regarding your boyfriend with an expression light and playful. “You’ve got a dangerous little waist, you know that, Prom?”

Gladio snorts at your brazen statement, rumbling his way to full-bellied laughter as he drinks in how Ignis and Noct stare at you, shock and surprise in both of their faces. Prompto, on the other hand, is burning all over, freckles standing stark against his flushed skin.

“How long have you—why is that even—” he sighs, dragging a hand down his very red face. “You can’t just _say_ stuff like that!” he moans.

Prompto checks his periphery for an out, only to find Noctis engrossed in something on his phone and Ignis busying himself with his pocketbook. Gladio’s laughter has died down, but it’s clear from his posturing that he’s watching the two of you for his entertainment.

Traitors, the lot of them.

Prompto made that noise he does, that weary, kind of embarrassed noise that you’ve always found endearing. An eternity passes – at least for him – before he speaks again.

“I just don’t think I’d look good in that much white.”

It was your turn to turn pink. Did that mean he would..?

“I’ll lie and say I was joking if it’ll make you feel better,” you say quickly, suddenly antsy to distance yourself from the kink-awakening ensemble standing proudly at your back. “You don’t have to humor me if you’re not comfortable--”

“I want to!” he protests loudly.

The outburst gives you pause, mind bluescreening for a moment before your cheeks heat further. , but not unwelcome sensation of his fingers playing for yours, cheeks heating further as Prompto threads your hands together almost thoughtfully.

“I’ve been turned into a frog before. A _frog_. Trying on a dress will hardly be the scariest or weirdest thing to have happened in my life. Maybe nothing super expensive though, I don’t want to have to pay for anything if I rip it in the fitting room.”

“Or if I rip it off you,” you mumble so only he can hear. The tips of his ears are bright red now.

“Or that.” concedes Prompto. “…so did you want to go now, or?”

“Now’s good.” You say a little awkwardly. You’re unsure of how to proceed from here. “Did you wanna get a bite to eat or something, maybe build up a bit of tension beforehand? I want this to be comfortable for you.”

Prompto mulls it over, but ultimately shakes his head. “I can’t wait that long.”

The grin you give him is warm, somewhat eager. “Off to the shops, then.”

You think to wave goodbye to the boys and tell them you’ll catch up later, but when you turn to address them, you find they’ve all headed elsewhere without so much as a word.

“Rude,” you tut.

Prompto nods his agreement. “Tell me about it.”

*

Atmospherically speaking, the lingerie shops in Altissia are noticeably different from the ones in Insomnia, favouring cheerful, yet tantalizing décor over the dark, brooding vibe you’d come to expect back home. The wallpaper is a dusty pink, patterned with a nonobtrusive brocade of darker pink fibers that simmer in the soft overhead lights. Gold circle racks dot the front of the shop, giving way to expansive table displays and the odd mannequin in the further parts of the store.

Prompto is only slightly overwhelmed by the amount of choice, and clings to you despite your insistence he finds something he likes.

“There’s so much stuff,” he sighs in wonderment, watching you pick something off the rack for him to examine. Whatever it is (a chemise, perhaps?), it’s a sheer pink number with thin straps and a flouncy hemline, much like many of the things you’ve been drawn to thus far.

Hooking the garment to your forearm, you flip through the rack for anything else, though the thick hangers prove to be giving the illusion of surplus rather quickly. Must be why there’s so many racks.

“I’ll be wearing this one,” you tell Prompto after you both fall silent, “as a thank you for indulging me.”

When you look up, Prompto’s eyes are elsewhere, glued on a display further towards the back, and you follow his eye line. He’s looking at the saucier pieces, made of interwoven straps and little else. “Unless you’d like me to wear something else?” you offer.

“No, no, I love that for you!” Prompto’s quick to say, and the smile he shoots you is more than genuine. “Think I found what we’re both looking for, is all.” He takes your hand again, leading you towards whatever it was that caught his eyes.

You can barely keep up with his purposeful strides, though when you reach the back wall you understand his haste. Hanging before you is the most beautiful bustier and garter combo, delicate shapes carved out of sultry indigo fabric. Immediately, Prompto reaches forward and removes it from the wall with delicate hands, turning it over in absolute awe.

“I get it now. Like, I don’t get why it’s so godsdamn expensive, but I get why you like shopping for lingerie so much. Do you get this excited whenever you find a bra you like?”

Emphatically, you nod. “All the time. I get even more excited when it fits. Hop in a fitting room and I’ll stand guard.”

He looks to where you gesture and finds an attendant to let him in a room, though he’s a little confused when you hang back in the waiting area. “Aren’t you going in with me? I always go in with you.”

You shake your head. “I’ll make this whole plaza shake if I go in there with you. Don’t let me see a thing until we’re alone.”

That delightful red color comes back to Prompto’s cheeks, and he disappears behind the door.

*

It’s not until the evening that you finally get to see how Prompto’s latest number suits him. The gondola ride back to the Leville took forever; the lunch crowd had piled into the streets in the time it took you to shop, so the two of you ended up grabbing a bite to eat at a street vendor while you waited for the crowd to thin.

What you ate was a distant memory by the time you got to the hotel, folpetti long forgotten as you finally, finally got into your room, eager to freshen up and devour every bit of skin Prompto offered.

You lay waiting on your shared bed in your pretty pink chemise, hair brushed back and leg bouncing anticipatorily. You couldn’t hear much of Prompto’s wardrobe change, only the occasional groan of the floor as he maneuvered his way into his new ensemble.

Light spills into your dim bedroom when he cracks the bathroom door open, and you sit up almost immediately.

“Ready for me to blow your dick off?” he says cheekily. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t further endear himself to you.

Fondness tugs your lips into a smile. “Whenever you’re ready, baby.”

The bathroom light cuts off, and you’re bathed in dimness again, watching with bated breath as he approaches you. Immediately, your eyes are drawn to his legs and the nylon that covers them; they’re the same rich indigo as his bustier. White garters drip against his pale thighs and draw your gaze to his bare cock – gods, he was perfect – and upward to the dark fabric encircling his lean hips. Further up is the bustier, with white lace windowing his sides, cinching his waist and revealing the barest hint of his ribcage. The neckline stops just beneath his pectorals, and you shudder. His nipples are already hard.

“You like it?” he asks from beneath fluttering eyelashes. Who knew dressing up made Prompto such a tease?

“Gonna marry you,” is all you say before you’re beckoning him over, relief coursing through your body as he crashes his lips into yours. You kiss him feverishly, fingers tugging roughly at his soft tresses. He moans openly against your mouth and pushes you flat against the bed, palm locating your breast and squeezing. Breathy sighs leave your body when he rolls your nipple between his calloused fingers, and you arch into him with a whine. “Dirty move,” you hiss against his lips, though you make no attempts to gain the upper hand.

The weight of his body feels heavenly against yours, hands roaming and teeth nibbling at the spots that make you squirm. Fingertips leave your breast to skim your waist before they hike up the hem of your chemise. Prompto’s touch burns you in the most delicious of ways as he paws at your thighs, greedy and impatient.

“Wet already?” he’s smirking down at you.

“Yeah,” you say, hand darting down to wrap around his _very_ stiff cock. You tug him once, twice, just to shut him up, before you fall into that rhythm he likes, one of languid pulls and careful rotations of your wrist. “Been wanting you all day. I can’t believe you’re even dressed like this right now. And it’s all for me? I don’t know what I did, but I’m so grateful. So happy. I could stare at you like this forever.” You tug in time with your ramblings, lost in the weight of him in your hand, the love in your heart, the fingers that circle your aching clit.

“Can I—” Prompto swallows a moan, concentration hazy. “Can I put it in? Not that your hand doesn’t feel great! It’s so soft and you touch me just right, but I need you. Fuck, I need you so bad.”

You steal the very breath from his lungs as you lock your mouths together again, spreading your thighs to give him better access to you. Guiding him with your hand, you swipe the blunt head of his cock against your sopping wet slit and bring him into you.

Prompto takes the reigns and slams into you with urgency, wrenching a pleasured cry from your throat. The pace he sets is brutal, your headboard slamming into the wall with each thrust. You can hear him as he pounds into your cunt, the wet sounds of your coupling rhythmic and unending.

Usually, you’d be digging into his flesh; dragging your nails down his back and sinking your teeth into his shoulder. All you can do now is arch against him and allow ecstasy to snatch you away_._ Prompto’s breath leaves him in hot, heavy puffs against your lips, his fingers dig into your hips and he bulldozes you, that pretty little bustier looming over you all the while.

“Switch,” you huff, eyes lidded low. “I wanna see you.”

The effort of slowing down is visible in the knit of his brow, but he manages, pulling out and rolling you over with a speed that makes you dizzy. You’re in his lap now, thick thighs straddling his narrow hips. You open your mouth to say something, but he quite literally fucks it out of you, gripping your hips to slam you down on his cock. Prompto is a mess of profanities, every utterance more lewd than the last as he bounces you in his lap.

Your entire body is shaking, but you keep your eyes on him, raking your eyes over every detail. His hair’s long since fallen out of its usual style, dampened with sweat and mussed from your earlier tugging. You can’t draw your eyes away from the cleavage of his pectorals, enhanced that slightest bit by his bustier.

He’s beautiful. So goddamn beautiful. He’s all you want to look at for the rest of your life.

“Marry me?” you say, meeting his now darkened eyes. His pupils are blown out wider than you’ve ever seen, irises a thin ring of blue around the black expanse. You shiver at the sight.

“Marry you?” he parrots, his hips not once faltering. “Like, marry you?”

You nod, lip tucked between your teeth. “Marry me. You’re so pretty. You’re so kind and so giving and I love you so much. Marry me and make me the luckiest bastard in all of Eos.”

“Okay,” he hums. There’s a smile playing at his lips. “Yeah, we’ll get married. I’ll wear something like this under my tux just for you. Would you like if I did that? If I paraded around in a suit with practically nothing underneath it, just for you? Gods, I bet you’ll look so good in your dress.”

He’s rambling – you both are, but you know he means every word of it.

“We can look for rings tomorrow,” you sigh, eyes steadily fluttering shut. Your orgasm is close. It pounds at every one of your senses. “Right now, I wanna come. Wanna come so fucking bad, Prom. Come inside me. I’ll take every last drop.”

“I’ll buy you a million rings if you want,” Prompto bites out. “You make me so fucking happy. So goddamn happy.” his thrusts are a little sloppier now, his mind clouded over with nothing but the need to spill into you. You babble lovingly in his ear until he comes, and the warmth that floods you is enough to send you hurdling towards your peak.

Electricity runs into the very tips of your limbs, vision blurring as your spine snaps straight and you come _hard_, mouth falling open with a satisfied scream. “Fuck, I’m coming. Prompto, baby, I’m coming, I’m coming, _I’m_ _coming_.”

You stay joined with him like that for a moment, hearts racing and chests heaving as you struggle to come down. A beat passes before you can move, and you slowly, gingerly, roll off of him. Your thighs are sticky with both your fluids. _That’s a problem for the morning_, you think decisively, and you slump down beside your kinda-sorta-fiancé.

From the corner of your eye, you can see him sit up a bit, reaching behind him to remove his bustier, before he places it rather carefully on the bedside table.

Prompto speaks first, once he settles into bed. “We really gonna get married?”

You mumble an affirmative into your pillow. “If you’ll have me.”

“_Of course_,” he says, a little too quickly. “I mean. Yeah. I’d love to marry you.”

“Good. I didn’t just ask because you… y’know.”

Prompto waves a hand. “I know. Wanna cuddle? I don’t care that you’re all sticky.”

You’re barely awake as he makes the offer, but you wriggle as close as your last bit of energy will allow you. You sigh contentedly as he drapes an arm around you.

“…you think we woke the guys up?” he asks you suddenly.

“Prob’ly.” You slur. “We’ll find out tomorrow.”

Prompto snorts. He’s excited to spend forever with you.

**Author's Note:**

> the chocobros vanish into thin air as soon as one of them is even mildly horny and that's canon


End file.
